Prophecy
by Victoria Alatamir Wan
Summary: Companion piece to "Moirae". "What is the prophecy of the brothers?" "At the start of the Second Age, the Lady Galadriel foretold of two brothers, whose bond could go beyond all boundaries- even death." Rated for injury and angst.


**Prophecy**

A/N: Um, I wasn't exactly planning to have a companion piece...when I originally started writing this several days ago I was just trying to let out my depression (which is why it's all formal and tragic). Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

And okay, I'm getting around to "Moment". I promise I'll update ASAP (hopefully tomorrow)!

All Elvish is in italics (the first conversation is entirely in Elvish, I just didn't translate it). Bold is thought speech or thoughts.

* * *

"_Father, you cannot do this."_

"_Legolas, I must."_

"_There must be another way!"_

"_My son, let not your love for him blind you to the faults of Men. I am only trying to do what is best for my people and my realm."_

"_Father..."_

"_Do I not have your love as well?"_

"_You have my love, Father."_

* * *

All was still in the White City. But to King Aragorn Elessar, even the peacefulness seemed to forebode the coming tempest. He turned away from the window to face the Elf who stood at his door. "What is the meaning of this?" the man asked quietly, indicating the parchment in his hand that the Elf had delivered to him.

Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, regarded him sadly with midnight blue eyes. "It means no more than it says. I am sorry. My father's word is law. I can do naught to change it." His gaze turned anxious as he glanced back over his shoulder. "I have already lingered here too long, Aragorn. I cannot stay." He turned to leave.

Aragorn strode across the room, catching Legolas in a tight embrace. A dozen thoughts passed through his mind, and he immediately pushed them aside. All that mattered to him at this moment was the golden Elf in his arms, and the warm presence that would too-soon be torn away from him. He closed his eyes, tears dampening Legolas' hair. Legolas pulled away, his eyes glittering with tears, and kissed Aragorn on both cheeks. Then he was gone.

The King sank to the floor, his tears blurring the neat calligraphy on the letter he still clutched in his hand.

_**From this hour forth do I declare that a state of war exists between the Woodland Realm of Eryn Lasgalen and the Kingdom of Gondor.**_

* * *

The grass of the Pelennor Fields glistened red with blood.

Aragorn whirled through the Elven troops, his sword Andúril flashing like deadly lightning in his grip. Tears fell steadily down his face as he tried not to look at the faces of the Elves he cut down. Who knew how many of them had been his friends?

A pair of ivory daggers met his next slash. Breathtakingly-blue eyes looked out from the shadow of the helm the Elf wore, and an icy hand gripped Aragorn's heart. Blue eyes in an Elf from Eryn Lasgalen were exceedingly rare; as far as he knew, only one living Wood-elf had blue eyes. But his sword-fighting reflexes were quicker than his mind.

He couldn't stop Andúril as it tore into the Elf's stomach, and the Elf fell to the ground, his helm rolling away.

Legolas looked up at Aragorn, blood spilling from the wound. "_Estel..._" he whispered, fighting for every breath. "_Gwador...mela..._" Aragorn fell to his knees.

Aragorn...brother...love...

"Legolas, no!" he cried. Legolas' eyelids slipped shut, and Aragorn felt his world come crashing down around him. "No..."

* * *

"I am sorry, my lords," the Healer said softly.

The Elvenking lifted his gaze from the still form on the bed, his fair face betraying his hopelessness. "There is no hope then?" The Healer shook her head. "How long?" the other King asked hoarsely, without looking away from his dearest friend's face. The Healer looked sadly upon her King. "He will not live to see another dawn."

After she had gone, Aragorn looked up, raw grief in his silver eyes. "I ask not for forgiveness, for I can receive none. But I am sorry." Thranduil shook his head. "Were it not for my blind arrogance, none of this would have happened. The blame is mine." With these words, he gently laid down Legolas' cold hand which until then he had been holding. "Stay with him a while. Your presence may yet do him some good..._ion nîn_." My son.

He bent to kiss Aragorn's brow, and went out.

* * *

Aragorn kept his vigil through the night. Dawn came, and with the first light the room seemed to glow golden. He reached out, almost involuntarily, and brushed Legolas' cheek with his free hand. Legolas did not stir, and Aragorn shuddered, pulling away. If Legolas was so far gone that he did not respond even to Aragorn's touch, he did not have long to live.

As if in response to his thoughts, the air in the room shimmered, and two infinitely fair ladies appeared before him. "_Híril nîn_," he murmured, recognizing them for who they were—two of the Valar. He bowed his head. "My ladies...have you come to bear him to the Halls?" Legolas' heart faltered briefly, then began to beat again. One of the ladies—Varda—drifted forward. "His time has come, _Envinyatur_. Have you the power to defy the Master of the Halls, Renewer though you are?" Aragorn bowed his head again, fresh tears starting in his eyes.

Then the other lady—Nienna—spoke, and her tone was one of awe. "Nay, sister. Look with your heart." She drifted around the bed and laid her slender hand over Aragorn's and Legolas' still-clasped hands. Her other hand she held out, palm up, to her sister. Legolas' heart stopped, and nine seconds crawled by before it beat again. Varda smiled. "Their bond is strong." Nienna drew her hand back. "Remember the prophecy of the brothers? For two ages we have waited and not understood, and the answer was right before our eyes!"

Aragorn listened in growing amazement. "What is the prophecy of the brothers?" Varda seated herself in midair, her green kirtle rearranging itself around her. "At the start of the Second Age, the Lady Galadriel foretold of two brothers, whose bond could go beyond all boundaries—even death."

Her words brought back to Aragorn a long-forgotten memory. As he had lain dying on a riverbank in Rohan, Legolas had come to him like a _lirimaer_, an angel, a servant of the Valar. He had knelt at Aragorn's side, his gentle hands over Aragorn's heart. It was only then that Aragorn had found in himself the strength to live.

"Rohan..." he muttered. The two ladies smiled. "Our brother would not begrudge us this one," said Nienna. "But do not forget," added Varda. "The prophecy has not yet been fulfilled. There is one more boundary they must pass together." Before Aragorn could ask what she meant, she shimmered, and disappeared. Nienna drifted around the bed again, and laid her hand over Legolas' heart. The room glowed with a bright silver light, blinding Aragorn momentarily. When the light faded, Nienna was gone. Legolas' chest rose and fell steadily.

At that precise moment, the door was flung open, and Thranduil hurried in. "I felt something change," he explained in one breath. "What hap—" He was cut off when Legolas stirred. The prince coughed, and opened his eyes. "_Ada_," he whispered, softly but clearly. Father.

Thranduil's eyes filled with tears of joy, and he rushed forward to embrace his son. When he pulled back, he looked at Aragorn, his dark amber eyes shining. "_Hannon lle_." Thank you.

* * *

.:.100 years later.:.

A lone restless spirit wandered the Halls.

As it wandered, it tried to remember. But its memories—**former memories?** it wondered idly—hovered just outside its reach. The harder it tried, the more they slipped through its grasp.

One of the Valar shimmered into being in front of him, and the spirit felt slightly reassured that it, at least, recognized the lord of the Halls. "_Hir nîn _Mandos," it greeted him softly. "My lord." Mandos inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the greeting. "What troubles you so? There is no worry in my Halls."

The spirit pondered Mandos' question, but it couldn't quite pinpoint what was making it so restless. "I am sorry, but I cannot remember." Mandos sighed, as though he had expected that answer. He drifted closer to it, and laid his hand on its brow. "Try again."

It obeyed, and suddenly a flood of memories washed over him, along with the different names he had borne for the over-two hundred years of his life. Estel—Strider—Aragorn—Elessar—Envinyatur—Estel...

Estel looked up at Mandos. "All is not right," he said. It was not a question. Mandos nodded, his fair face grave. "My sisters have told me such. Your bonds to the Elves—the prince in particular, to be exact—are too strong for you to stay here. You belong with your family. They are not whole without you."

It took Estel a few minutes to understand what Mandos was saying. "I am leaving these Halls?"

Mandos nodded. "I am taking you to Tol Eressëa, in the Undying Lands."

"But—but I thought mortals were forbidden to set foot in the Undying Lands," stammered Estel.

Mandos smiled slightly. "You speak truly. But you are no longer mortal, _Peredhil_...half-Elven."

* * *

Twilight found Estel sitting on the white beach, looking out across the ocean. Elrond's welcome had been warm, but there was someone missing whom Estel had hoped to see.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped to his feet. "Lady Celebrían," he said, surprised, and bowed. She laughed, a clear sound like wind chimes. "That is not necessary, _ion nîn_. When you were young you called me _Ammë_—Mother. That will suffice."

"_Ammë_, then...is something wrong?" She shook her head, her golden hair shimmering in the moonlight. It reminded Estel painfully of his Elven best friend. "Nay. Only that your father is completely convinced that you are grieving." Estel smiled wryly. "_Ada_ and his foresight..." he muttered.

"So it is true you are grieving," Celebrían said. Estel sighed, turning away from her to glance at the ocean again "I miss Legolas." Celebrían raised an eyebrow. "Legolas, son of Thranduil the Elvenking?" Estel nodded, and Celebrían frowned slightly. "He is Elven. He will sail, like all Elves do when their time on earth has ended. Why do you worry?"

Estel shook his head. "I cannot be certain if he will sail. When I..." He faltered slightly. "When I died, I made him promise to sail, not to fade from grief. But I know not if he can keep that promise." Celebrían clasped Estel's shoulder in wordless comfort. "What does your heart tell you?" she asked softly.

Estel was quiet for a few moments, listening to the waves. Then he looked back at Celebrían, a small smile gracing his features. "He is coming."

Celebrían tousled his hair lightly, smiling as well. "Listen to your heart. Always."

* * *

Far away, out at sea, on the deck of the last Grey Ship, Legolas Greenleaf stood at the bow, the sea breeze toying with his braids. His fair face was streaked with tears, his dull blue eyes in the past, reliving the memories his dream had brought back to him.

The old scar on his stomach tingled, and a familiar baritone voice spoke to him. **The prophecy has been fulfilled, Legolas. Hurry home, **_**gwador nîn**_**, my brother. My heart shall weep until I see thee again.**

Legolas turned instinctively, half-expecting to see his friend striding across the deck, and sighed at the emptiness. **Ever is thy presence a joy,** he responded easily. **I am coming, **_**quel mellon nîn**_**, my dear friend. Wait for me.**

* * *

A/N: Errr...yeah. This is more of Aragorn's side of my story "Moirae".

I saw on some other story that Nienna was Lady of Healing, sister to Mandos, lord of the Halls (where mortals go when they die). And Varda is, well, another one of the Valar, I _think_. My apologies if I got that wrong.

Anyway. Like it? Hate it? Any 'out-of-character' complaints? (I'm sure there are many. ;P) Please leave some feedback if you have time!


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